Capturing Memories, or the Failure of Photographs

The first time I went to Europe, like most tourists, I took pictures; only I did so with the zeal of a foreign spy. I would even try to act nonchalant and snap pictures without looking because, goodness, I’m not a tourist or anything. There was no quirky building unnoticed by my lens and no end for my desire to make this experience last as long as possible. And judging by all the photos of trips people upload to Facebook alone, I think it’s a common sentiment.

The saying goes, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” But what if what you want to capture can’t adequately be described by any words you can think of? What if what you want to capture is a feeling or a mood? Some people are talented photographers, but even for them, capturing a particular mood requires just the right light, staging, and hard work. And let’s be honest, most of us don’t fall into category of “professional photographer.” Besides, when it comes to capturing something as multi-faceted as your own emotions, sometimes, photographs, no matter how beautiful, just don’t cut it.

This is where Proust comes in (and he’s always relevant somewhere in my life). He famously describes the profound moment of sensory memory when the protagonist of In Search of Lost Time, Marcel, bites into a madeleine cookie and takes a sip of tea. Marcel tastes something he hasn’t tasted since his childhood and is suddenly flooded with memories. This is an experience that you can’t entirely replicate, but from which you can certainly take a lesson. In this spirit, I always try to make use of all (or most) of my senses when gathering the traces of my trips.

Sound

You can’t avoid music abroad (barring travel to some deeply restrictive country or some variation of the town in Footloose). You’ll hear music on the radio or TV playing in the background in your apartment or hotel, you’ll hear it in cabs, stores, nightclubs, bars, restaurants, and even on the beach. The more you hear it, the more you’ll associate with it (sometimes whether you want to or not). This is especially effective if you hear the song for the first time abroad but it works with any music you choose to listen to when you travel. And since this music provides the soundtrack to your trip, why not treat it as such? Buy the new music when you get home, compile a playlist of songs you’ve come to associate with that trip, and let your mind drift away.

Smell

When I went back to my birthplace last year, I discovered that my memories were inadequate. Part of it was because I was only six years old when I left, but mostly, it was because the city had changed drastically in the seventeen years during my absence and the many memories that I did retain felt like they belonged elsewhere. It was difficult to connect the images of my childhood to the buildings I saw before me—until I smelled the acacias. That fragrance reminded me of something indescribable from my past, something which is part feeling and part memory. And it brought back solid memories too, such as the way acacia petals dotted the ground when I played outside with my friends. But it led me to a greater discovery: that the aromas of my city hadn’t changed. Smell is a sense usually taken for granted and we often don’t realize that what we smell is being registered in our memory (unless of course that smell is the kind you don’t want to remember). This happened again and again on my trip. It’s also the reason why whenever I’m around someone smoking on a hot day in San Francisco, I involuntarily think of Europe. So if you really want to take a trip down memory lane, buy some candles or perfume oils scented with whatever you associate with your favorite place or buy a bouquet of the flowers your neighbor in Tel Aviv grew, and see what incredible feats of memory recall your mind is capable of.

Taste

This is one we sometimes don’t even realize we’re doing. For example, I’ve been on a desperate hunt for the perfect Argentine empanada in San Francisco for longer than can be considered “sane.” And what (besides feeding my inner glutton) am I trying to accomplish if not at least partially relive a memory? We do this whenever we look for “that dish we tried in Paris” or the “authentic” anything. And if hunting down something similar where you live just doesn’t do it for you, you could pick up local recipes, spices, and staples the next time you travel. I quickly realized that I need to spend less suitcase room on knickknacks and more on that Calabrian liquor I can’t seem to find in the US (not much more room, though; I don’t have a problem or anything) and that heavenly homemade jam my relatives make. And you can bet that whenever I eat buttered toast with that homemade strawberry jam, I’m tasting the strawberries I had as a kid at my grandmother’s house in the country.

Sight

This one might just be my favorite. I stumbled upon this idea when I went to Europe for the first time. I began writing a giddy and heartfelt letter to my then-best friend and the more I wrote, the more it became a meticulous chronicle of my first impressions, honest thoughts, and ridiculous anecdotes. I recounted the silly things that happened and made all the jokes I would have if I were telling it to her in person. I never had a chance to send it because foreign post offices confuse me wildly and it grew too long and messy for mortal eyes. I reread it months later and realized that I had already forgotten some of the things that I had noted in my letter. Rereading it took me right back to the bed and the mindset where I scribbled urgently in my notebook every night. It became my first travel journal. Since then, I have kept a journal on every long trip I take and never fail to be amazed at both the fallibility of human memory and the ability of some simple, fleeting thoughts and descriptions to refresh my recollection.

So, next time you travel, try to take advantage of the effect all your senses have on your memory, because forgetting treasured moments would just be senseless.

By Tatiana Sundeyeva

Tatiana Sundeyeva has gotten into the terrible habit of thinking about everything. She enjoys travel, literature, puns, and anything that can be found in a bakery. And not necessarily in that order. She is a graduate of UC Berkeley where she got a degree in English with a minor in Italian.